Chapter 59

第五十九章

菲利普在极度的痛苦中熬过了那个夜晚。他事先关照过房东太太，说晚上不回来用餐，所以房东太太没给他准备吃的，他只得跑到加蒂餐馆；去吃了顿晚饭。然后，他又回到自己的寓所来。这时候，格里菲思那一伙人正在楼上聚会，一阵阵热闹的欢声笑语不断从楼上传来，相形之下，菲利普越发觉得内心的痛苦难以忍受。他索性去杂耍剧场，因为是星期六晚上，场内座无虚席，只好站着观看。站了半个小时，两腿已发酸，加上节目又乏味，便中途退场回寓所来。他想看一会儿书，却没法集中思想，而眼下又非发奋用功不可，再过半个月就要举行生物考试了。虽说这门课很。容易，可他近来很不用功，落了不少课，自知什么也没学到。好在只进行口试，他觉得抓紧这两个星期，临时抱一下佛脚，混个及格还是有把握的。他自信聪明，有恃无恐。他把书本往旁边一扔，一门心思考虑起那件魂牵梦绕的事情来。

他狠狠责备自己今晚举止失当。干吗自己要把话说绝，说什么要么她陪自己去用餐，要么就此一刀两断？她当然要一口回绝罗。他应该考；虑到她的自尊心。他这种破釜沉舟的做法，实际上是把自己的退路给断。了。退一步说，要是菲利普能对自己说她这会儿也很痛苦呢，那么他心里；兴许要好受些，可是他深知其为人，她根本不把他放在心上。要是他当时稍微放聪明些，就应该装聋作哑，不去揭穿她的鬼话。他该有那么点涵养功夫，不让自己的失望情绪流露出来，更不要在她面前使性子耍脾气。菲利普实在想不通，自己怎么会爱上她的。过去他在书本里看到过所谓"情人眼里出美人"的说法，可他在米尔德丽德身上看到的分明是她的本来面：目。她一无情趣，二不聪明，思想又相当平庸；她身上那股狡黠的市井之。气，更叫菲利普反感；她没有教养，也缺少女性特有的温柔。正如她所标榜的那样，她是个"重实际"的女人。平时有谁玩点花招，捉弄一下老实。人，总能赢得她的赞赏；让人"上当受骗"，她心里说不出有多舒服。菲利普想到她进餐时那种冒充风雅、忸怩作态的样子，禁不住哈哈狂笑。她还容忍不得粗俗的言词，尽管她胸无点墨，词汇贫乏，偏喜欢假充斯文，滥用婉词。她的忌讳也特别多。譬如，她从来不兴讲"裤子"，而硬要说"下装"。再有，她觉得擤鼻子有伤大雅，所以逢到要擤鼻子，总露出一副不得己而为之的神态。她严重贫血，自然也伴有消化不良症。她那扁平的胸部和狭窄的臀部，颇令菲利普扫兴；她那俗气的发式，也叫菲利普厌恶。可他偏偏爱上了这样一个女人，这怎能不叫他厌恶、轻视自己。

厌恶也罢，轻视也罢，事实上他现在已是欲罢而不能。他感到这就像当年在学校里受到大孩子的欺凌一样。他拚命抵御，不畏强暴，直到自己筋疲力尽，再无半点还手之力--他至今还记得那种四肢疲软的奇特感觉，就像全身瘫痪了似的--最后只好束手就擒，听凭他人摆布。那简直是一种死去活来的经历。现在，他又产生了那种疲软、瘫痪的感觉。他现在恋上了这个女人，才明白他以前从没有真正爱过谁。任她有种种缺点，身体上的也罢，品格上的也罢，他一概不在乎，甚至觉得连那些缺点他也爱上了。无论如何，那些缺点在他来说完全算不了什么。仿佛整个这件事，并不直接关系到他个人的切身利害，只觉得自己受着一股奇异力量的驱使，不断干出一系列既违心又害己的蠢事来。他生性酷爱自由，所以卜分痛恨那条束缚他心灵的锁链。自己过去做梦也想体验一下不可抗拒的情欲的滋味，想想也觉得可笑。他诅咒自己竟如此迁就自己的情欲。他回想起这一切究竟是怎么开始的。要是当初他没跟邓斯福德去那家点心店，也就不会有今天的这种局面了。总之，全怪自己不好。要是自己没有那份荒唐可笑的虚荣心，他才不会在那个粗鄙的臭娘儿身上费神呢。

不管怎么说，今天晚上这场口角，总算把这一切全都了结了。只要他还有一点羞耻之心，就绝不可能再退回去，求她重修旧好。他热切地想从令人困扰的情网中挣脱出来；这种可恨的爱情只能叫人体面丢尽。他必须强迫自己不再去想她。过了一会儿，他心中的痛苦准是缓解了几分。他开始回首起往事来。他想到埃米莉·威尔金森和范妮·普赖斯，不知她们为了他，是否也忍受过他目前所身受的折腾。他不禁涌起一股悔恨之情。

"那时候，我还不懂爱情是怎么一回事呢，"他自言自语道。

那天夜里，他睡得很不安稳。第二天是星期天，他算是开始复习生物了。他坐在那儿，一本书摊开在面前，为了集中思想，他努动嘴唇，默念课丈，可念来念去什么也没印到脑子里去。他发现自己无时无刻不在想米；尔德丽德；他把前一天晚上同米尔德丽德怄气吵嘴的话，又一字字、一句句地仔细回忆了一遍。他得费好大气力，才能把注意力收回到课本上来。他干脆外出散步去了。泰晤士河南岸的那几条小街，平时尽管够腌(月赞)的，可街上车水马龙，人来人往，多少还有点生气。一到星期天，大小店铺全都关门停业，马路上也不见有车辆来往，四下静悄悄的，显得凄清冷落，给人一种难以名状的沉闷之感。菲利普觉得这一天好长，像是没完没了似的。后来实在太困顿了，这才昏昏沉沉地睡去。一觉醒来，已是星期一，他总算不再访惶犹豫，重新迈开了生活的步子。此时已近圣诞节，好多同，学到乡下去度假了（在冬季学期的期中，有一段不长的假期）。他大伯曾邀他回布莱克斯泰勃过圣诞节，但被他婉言回绝了。他借口要准备考试，事实上是不愿意离开伦敦，丢不开米尔德丽德。他落了许多课，学业全荒废了，现在得在短短的两周内，把规定三个月里学完的课程统统补上。这一回，他倒真的发狠用起功来。随着日子一天天过去，他发觉，要自己不去想米尔德丽德，似乎也越来越容易办到了。他庆幸自己毕竟还有那么一股骨气。他内心的痛楚，不再像以前那么钻心刺骨地难受，而是变为时强时弱的隐痛，就好比是从马背上摔下来，尽管跌得遍体鳞伤，昏昏沉沉，却没伤着骨头，要是不去触碰那些伤口，倒也不觉着怎么痛得厉害。菲利普发觉，他甚至还能带着几分好奇心来审视自己近几个星期来的处境。他饶有兴味地剖析了自己的感情。他对自己的所作所为觉得有点好笑。有一点使他深有感触：处在当时那种情况之下，个人的想法是多么的无足轻重Z他那一套经过精心构思、并使他感到十分满意的个人处世哲学，到头来竟一点也帮不了他的忙。对此，菲利普感到困惑不解。

话虽这么说，可有时候他在街上远远看到一位长相颇似米尔德丽德的姑娘，他的心又似乎骤然停止了跳动。接着，他又会身不由己地撒腿追了上去，心里既热切又焦急，可走近一看，原来是位陌生人。同学们纷纷从乡下回来了，他和邓斯福德一同到ABC面包公司经营的一家咖啡馆去吃点心。他一见到那眼熟的女招待制服，竟难过得连话也讲不出来。他还忽生奇念：说不定她已经调到该面包公司的一家分店来工作了，说。不定哪一天他又会同她邂逅而遇。他一转到这个念头，心里顿时慌乱起来，却又生怕邓斯福德看出自己的神态失常。他心乱如麻，想不出话来说，只好装着在聆听邓斯福德讲话的样子。可他越听越恼，简直忍不住要冲着邓斯福德大嚷一声：看在老天的份上，快住口吧！

考试的日子来临了。轮到菲利普时，他胸有成竹地走到主考人的桌子跟前。主考人先让他回答了三四个问题，然后又指给他看各种各样的标本。菲利普平时没上几堂课，所以一问到书本上没讲到的内容，顿时傻了眼。他尽量想搪塞过去，主考人也没多加追问，十分钟的口试很快就过去了。菲利普心想，及格大概总不成问题吧，可第二天当他来到考试大楼看张贴在大门上的考试成绩时，不由得猛吃一惊--他在顺利通过考试的考生名单里没有找到自己的学号。他不胜惊讶，把那张名单反复看了三遍。邓斯福德这会儿就在他身边。

"哎，太遗憾了，你没及格呐，"他说。

在看榜之前他刚问过菲利普的学号。菲利普转过身子，只见邓斯福德喜形于色，准是考及格了。

"哦，一点也没关系，"菲利普说，"你过关了，我真为你高兴。我到七月份再来碰碰运气吧。"

他强作镇静，竭力装出满不在乎的样子，当他俩沿着泰晤士河堤路回学校时，菲利普尽扯些与考试无关的话题。邓斯福德出于好心，想帮助菲利普分析一下考试失利的原因，但菲利普硬是摆出一副漫不经心的神态。其实，他感到自己蒙受了奇耻大屏：一向被他认作是虽讨人喜欢、头脑却相当迟钝的邓斯福德，居然通过了考试，而自己却败下阵来，这不能不使他倍觉难堪。他一向为自己的才智出众感到自豪，可他现在忽然自暴自弃起来，怀疑是不是对自己估计过高了。这学期开学到现在已有三个月，十月份入学的学生自然而然地分化成好几档，哪些学生才华出众，哪些聪明机灵或者勤奋好学，又有哪些是不堪造就的"窝囊废"，早已是壁垒分明的了。菲利普肚里明白，他这次考场失利，除了他自己以外，谁也不感到意外。现在已是吃茶点的时刻，他知道许多同学这会儿正在学校的地下室里喝茶。那些顺利通过考试的人，准是高兴得什么似的；那些本来就不喜欢自己的人，无疑会朝他投来幸灾乐祸的目光；而那些没考及格的倒霉蛋，则会同情自己，其实也无非是希望能彼此同病相怜罢了。出于本能，菲利普想在一星期内不进学院的大门，因为事隔一星期，时过境迁，人们也就淡忘了。可菲利普生就一副怪脾气，正因为自己不愿意在这时候去，就偏偏去了--为了自讨苦吃。这会儿，他忘记了自己的座右铭：尽可随心所欲，只是得适当留神街角处的警察。若要说他正是按此准则行事的，那一定是他性格中具有某种病态因素，使他专以残酷折磨自我为乐事。

后来，菲利普果真经受了这场强加在自己身上的折磨，但是当他听够了吸烟室里嘈杂喧嚷的谈话，独自步入黑夜之中，一阵极度的孤寂之感却猛然袭上他的心头。他觉得自己既荒唐又没出息。他迫切需要安慰；他再也抵挡不住那股诱惑，急于要去见米尔德丽德。他不无辛酸地想到，自己很少有可能从她那儿得到些许安慰。但是，他要见她一面，哪怕一句话不说也是好的。她毕竟是个女招待嘛，说什么也得伺候他。在这个世界上，使他牵肠挂肚的就只她一个。自己硬是不承认这一事实，又有何用？当然罗，要他装作若无其事的样子再上那家点心店去，实在丢人，不过他的自尊心也所剩无几了。尽管他嘴上死也不肯承认，可心里却在天天盼望她能给自己来封信。只要把信寄到医学院来，就能送到他手里，这一点她不会不知道；然而，她就是不写。显然，见到他也罢，见不到也罢，她才不在乎呢。菲利普连声自语道：

"我一定要见她，我一定要见她。"

要想见她的愿望如此强烈，以至连走着去也嫌太慢，他急不可待地跳上一辆出租马车。他一向省吃俭用，除非万不得已，是舍不得为此破费的。他在店门外逡巡不前。过了一两分钟，脑子里忽然闪过一个念头：她会不会已经离开这儿了呢？他心里一惊，急忙跨步走了进去。他一眼就见到了她。等他坐下后，米尔德丽德朝他走过来。

"请来杯茶，外加一块松饼，"菲利普吩咐道。

他几乎连话也说不出来。一时间，他真担心自己会号啕大哭起来。

"我简直当你见上帝去了呢。"

说着她莞尔一笑。她笑了！她似乎已经把上回吵嘴的事全忘了，而菲利普却把双方口角之词翻来覆去地在心里念叨了不知多少遍。

"我想，你如果希望见我，会给我写信的，"他回答说。

"我自己的事还忙不过来，哪有闲工夫给你写信。"

看来，她那张利嘴里总吐不出好话来的。

菲利普暗暗诅咒命运，竟把自己和这么个女人拴在一起。她去给他端茶点。

"要我陪你坐一两分钟吗？"米尔德丽德端来了茶点，说。

"坐吧。"

"这一阵于你上哪儿去啦？"

"我一直在伦敦。"

"我还当你度假去了。那你干吗不上这儿来？"

菲利普那双憔悴却洋溢着热情的眼睛紧盯着米尔德丽德。

"我不是说过我再不想见你了，难道你忘了？"

"那你现在干吗还要来呢？"

她似乎急于要他饮下这杯蒙羞受辱的苦酒。不过，菲利普根了解她的为人，知道她是有口无心，随便说说罢了。她的话深深地刺痛了他的心，而就她来说，也未必总是出于本意。菲利普没有回答她。

"你居然在盯梢监视我，这么欺负人，太缺德了吧。我一直当你是道道地地的上等人呢。"

"别对我这么狠心，米尔德丽德。我实在忍受不了。"

"你真是个怪人，一点也摸不透你。"

"还不就是这么回事。我是个该死的大傻瓜，明明知道你根本不把我放在心上，可我还是真心诚意地爱你。"

"要是你真是个上等人，我觉得你第二天就该来向我赔个不是。"

她竟是铁石心肠，毫无怜悯之心。菲利普瞅着她的颈脖子，心想：要是能用那把切松饼的小刀在她脖子上捅一下，那该有多痛快。他学过解剖学，所以要一刀割断她的颈动脉，完全不成问题。而同时他又想凑近她，吻遍那张苍白、瘦削的脸庞。

"但愿我能让你明白，我爱你爱得快发疯了。"

"你还没有求我原谅呢。"

菲利普脸色发白。米尔德丽德觉得自己那天一点也没错，现在就是要煞煞他的威风。菲利普向来自尊心很强。有那么一瞬间，菲利普真想冲着她说：见你的鬼去吧！可他不敢说出口。情欲已把他一身的骨气全磨光了。只要能见到她，不论叫干什么，他都愿意。

"我很对不起你，米尔德丽德，请你原谅。"

菲利普百般无奈，硬从嘴里挤出这句话来，把吃奶的力气也用上了。

"既然你这么说了，那我不妨对你直说。那天晚上我后悔没跟你一块出去。我原以为米勒是个正人君子，现在才知道我是看错了人。我很快就把他给打发走了。"

菲利普抽了一口凉气。

"米尔德丽德，今晚你可愿意陪我出去走走？我们一块儿找个地方吃顿饭吧。"

"哟，那可不行。我姨妈等我回去呢。"

"那我去给她打个电话，就说你有事要留在店里，反正她又搞不清楚。哦，看在上帝的面上，答应了吧。我好久没见到你啦，有好多话要对你说日内。"

米尔德丽德低头看看自己的衣服。

"这个你不用操心，我们可以找个马虎点的地方，那儿随你穿什么都无所谓。吃过饭，我们就去杂耍剧场。你就答应了吧。这会使我多高业

她犹豫了片刻，菲利普用乞求的目光可怜巴巴地注视着她。

"嗯，去就去吧。我自己也记不清有多久没出去走走啦。"

菲利普好不容易才克制住自己，差点儿没当场就抓住她的手热吻起来。

Philip passed the evening wretchedly. He had told his landlady that he would not be in, so there was nothing for him to eat, and he had to go to Gatti’s for dinner. Afterwards he went back to his rooms, but Griffiths on the floor above him was having a party, and the noisy merriment made his own misery more hard to bear. He went to a music-hall, but it was Saturday night and there was standing-room only: after half an hour of boredom his legs grew tired and he went home. He tried to read, but he could not fix his attention; and yet it was necessary that he should work hard. His examination in biology was in little more than a fortnight, and, though it was easy, he had neglected his lectures of late and was conscious that he knew nothing. It was only a viva, however, and he felt sure that in a fortnight he could find out enough about the subject to scrape through. He had confidence in his intelligence. He threw aside his book and gave himself up to thinking deliberately of the matter which was in his mind all the time.

He reproached himself bitterly for his behaviour that evening. Why had he given her the alternative that she must dine with him or else never see him again? Of course she refused. He should have allowed for her pride. He had burnt his ships behind him. It would not be so hard to bear if he thought that she was suffering now, but he knew her too well: she was perfectly indifferent to him. If he hadn’t been a fool he would have pretended to believe her story; he ought to have had the strength to conceal his disappointment and the self-control to master his temper. He could not tell why he loved her. He had read of the idealisation that takes place in love, but he saw her exactly as she was. She was not amusing or clever, her mind was common; she had a vulgar shrewdness which revolted him, she had no gentleness nor softness. As she would have put it herself, she was on the make. What aroused her admiration was a clever trick played on an unsuspecting person; to ‘do’ somebody always gave her satisfaction. Philip laughed savagely as he thought of her gentility and the refinement with which she ate her food; she could not bear a coarse word, so far as her limited vocabulary reached she had a passion for euphemisms, and she scented indecency everywhere; she never spoke of trousers but referred to them as nether garments; she thought it slightly indelicate to blow her nose and did it in a deprecating way. She was dreadfully anaemic and suffered from the dyspepsia which accompanies that ailing. Philip was repelled by her flat breast and narrow hips, and he hated the vulgar way in which she did her hair. He loathed and despised himself for loving her.

The fact remained that he was helpless. He felt just as he had felt sometimes in the hands of a bigger boy at school. He had struggled against the superior strength till his own strength was gone, and he was rendered quite powerless—he remembered the peculiar languor he had felt in his limbs, almost as though he were paralysed—so that he could not help himself at all. He might have been dead. He felt just that same weakness now. He loved the woman so that he knew he had never loved before. He did not mind her faults of person or of character, he thought he loved them too: at all events they meant nothing to him. It did not seem himself that was concerned; he felt that he had been seized by some strange force that moved him against his will, contrary to his interests; and because he had a passion for freedom he hated the chains which bound him. He laughed at himself when he thought how often he had longed to experience the overwhelming passion. He cursed himself because he had given way to it. He thought of the beginnings; nothing of all this would have happened if he had not gone into the shop with Dunsford. The whole thing was his own fault. Except for his ridiculous vanity he would never have troubled himself with the ill-mannered slut.

At all events the occurrences of that evening had finished the whole affair. Unless he was lost to all sense of shame he could not go back. He wanted passionately to get rid of the love that obsessed him; it was degrading and hateful. He must prevent himself from thinking of her. In a little while the anguish he suffered must grow less. His mind went back to the past. He wondered whether Emily Wilkinson and Fanny Price had endured on his account anything like the torment that he suffered now. He felt a pang of remorse.

‘I didn’t know then what it was like,’ he said to himself.

He slept very badly. The next day was Sunday, and he worked at his biology. He sat with the book in front of him, forming the words with his lips in order to fix his attention, but he could remember nothing. He found his thoughts going back to Mildred every minute, and he repeated to himself the exact words of the quarrel they had had. He had to force himself back to his book. He went out for a walk. The streets on the South side of the river were dingy enough on week-days, but there was an energy, a coming and going, which gave them a sordid vivacity; but on Sundays, with no shops open, no carts in the roadway, silent and depressed, they were indescribably dreary. Philip thought that day would never end. But he was so tired that he slept heavily, and when Monday came he entered upon life with determination. Christmas was approaching, and a good many of the students had gone into the country for the short holiday between the two parts of the winter session; but Philip had refused his uncle’s invitation to go down to Blackstable. He had given the approaching examination as his excuse, but in point of fact he had been unwilling to leave London and Mildred. He had neglected his work so much that now he had only a fortnight to learn what the curriculum allowed three months for. He set to work seriously. He found it easier each day not to think of Mildred. He congratulated himself on his force of character. The pain he suffered was no longer anguish, but a sort of soreness, like what one might be expected to feel if one had been thrown off a horse and, though no bones were broken, were bruised all over and shaken. Philip found that he was able to observe with curiosity the condition he had been in during the last few weeks. He analysed his feelings with interest. He was a little amused at himself. One thing that struck him was how little under those circumstances it mattered what one thought; the system of personal philosophy, which had given him great satisfaction to devise, had not served him. He was puzzled by this.

But sometimes in the street he would see a girl who looked so like Mildred that his heart seemed to stop beating. Then he could not help himself, he hurried on to catch her up, eager and anxious, only to find that it was a total stranger. Men came back from the country, and he went with Dunsford to have tea at an A. B. C. shop. The well-known uniform made him so miserable that he could not speak. The thought came to him that perhaps she had been transferred to another establishment of the firm for which she worked, and he might suddenly find himself face to face with her. The idea filled him with panic, so that he feared Dunsford would see that something was the matter with him: he could not think of anything to say; he pretended to listen to what Dunsford was talking about; the conversation maddened him; and it was all he could do to prevent himself from crying out to Dunsford for Heaven’s sake to hold his tongue.

Then came the day of his examination. Philip, when his turn arrived, went forward to the examiner’s table with the utmost confidence. He answered three or four questions. Then they showed him various specimens; he had been to very few lectures and, as soon as he was asked about things which he could not learn from books, he was floored. He did what he could to hide his ignorance, the examiner did not insist, and soon his ten minutes were over. He felt certain he had passed; but next day, when he went up to the examination buildings to see the result posted on the door, he was astounded not to find his number among those who had satisfied the examiners. In amazement he read the list three times. Dunsford was with him.

‘I say, I’m awfully sorry you’re ploughed,’ he said.

He had just inquired Philip’s number. Philip turned and saw by his radiant face that Dunsford had passed.

‘Oh, it doesn’t matter a bit,’ said Philip. ‘I’m jolly glad you’re all right. I shall go up again in July.’

He was very anxious to pretend he did not mind, and on their way back along The Embankment insisted on talking of indifferent things. Dunsford good-naturedly wanted to discuss the causes of Philip’s failure, but Philip was obstinately casual. He was horribly mortified; and the fact that Dunsford, whom he looked upon as a very pleasant but quite stupid fellow, had passed made his own rebuff harder to bear. He had always been proud of his intelligence, and now he asked himself desperately whether he was not mistaken in the opinion he held of himself. In the three months of the winter session the students who had joined in October had already shaken down into groups, and it was clear which were brilliant, which were clever or industrious, and which were ‘rotters.’ Philip was conscious that his failure was a surprise to no one but himself. It was tea-time, and he knew that a lot of men would be having tea in the basement of the Medical School: those who had passed the examination would be exultant, those who disliked him would look at him with satisfaction, and the poor devils who had failed would sympathise with him in order to receive sympathy. His instinct was not to go near the hospital for a week, when the affair would be no more thought of, but, because he hated so much to go just then, he went: he wanted to inflict suffering upon himself. He forgot for the moment his maxim of life to follow his inclinations with due regard for the policeman round the corner; or, if he acted in accordance with it, there must have been some strange morbidity in his nature which made him take a grim pleasure in self-torture.

But later on, when he had endured the ordeal to which he forced himself, going out into the night after the noisy conversation in the smoking-room, he was seized with a feeling of utter loneliness. He seemed to himself absurd and futile. He had an urgent need of consolation, and the temptation to see Mildred was irresistible. He thought bitterly that there was small chance of consolation from her; but he wanted to see her even if he did not speak to her; after all, she was a waitress and would be obliged to serve him. She was the only person in the world he cared for. There was no use in hiding that fact from himself. Of course it would be humiliating to go back to the shop as though nothing had happened, but he had not much self-respect left. Though he would not confess it to himself, he had hoped each day that she would write to him; she knew that a letter addressed to the hospital would find him; but she had not written: it was evident that she cared nothing if she saw him again or not. And he kept on repeating to himself:

‘I must see her. I must see her.’

The desire was so great that he could not give the time necessary to walk, but jumped in a cab. He was too thrifty to use one when it could possibly be avoided. He stood outside the shop for a minute or two. The thought came to him that perhaps she had left, and in terror he walked in quickly. He saw her at once. He sat down and she came up to him.

‘A cup of tea and a muffin, please,’ he ordered.

He could hardly speak. He was afraid for a moment that he was going to cry.

‘I almost thought you was dead,’ she said.

She was smiling. Smiling! She seemed to have forgotten completely that last scene which Philip had repeated to himself a hundred times.

‘I thought if you’d wanted to see me you’d write,’ he answered.

‘I’ve got too much to do to think about writing letters.’

It seemed impossible for her to say a gracious thing. Philip cursed the fate which chained him to such a woman. She went away to fetch his tea.

‘Would you like me to sit down for a minute or two?’ she said, when she brought it.

‘Yes.’

‘Where have you been all this time?’

‘I’ve been in London.’

‘I thought you’d gone away for the holidays. Why haven’t you been in then?’

Philip looked at her with haggard, passionate eyes.

‘Don’t you remember that I said I’d never see you again?’

‘What are you doing now then?’

She seemed anxious to make him drink up the cup of his humiliation; but he knew her well enough to know that she spoke at random; she hurt him frightfully, and never even tried to. He did not answer.

‘It was a nasty trick you played on me, spying on me like that. I always thought you was a gentleman in every sense of the word.’

‘Don’t be beastly to me, Mildred. I can’t bear it.’

‘You are a funny feller. I can’t make you out.’

‘It’s very simple. I’m such a blasted fool as to love you with all my heart and soul, and I know that you don’t care twopence for me.’

‘If you had been a gentleman I think you’d have come next day and begged my pardon.’

She had no mercy. He looked at her neck and thought how he would like to jab it with the knife he had for his muffin. He knew enough anatomy to make pretty certain of getting the carotid artery. And at the same time he wanted to cover her pale, thin face with kisses.

‘If I could only make you understand how frightfully I’m in love with you.’

‘You haven’t begged my pardon yet.’

He grew very white. She felt that she had done nothing wrong on that occasion. She wanted him now to humble himself. He was very proud. For one instant he felt inclined to tell her to go to hell, but he dared not. His passion made him abject. He was willing to submit to anything rather than not see her.

‘I’m very sorry, Mildred. I beg your pardon.’

He had to force the words out. It was a horrible effort.

‘Now you’ve said that I don’t mind telling you that I wish I had come out with you that evening. I thought Miller was a gentleman, but I’ve discovered my mistake now. I soon sent him about his business.’

Philip gave a little gasp.

‘Mildred, won’t you come out with me tonight? Let’s go and dine somewhere.’

‘Oh, I can’t. My aunt’ll be expecting me home.’

‘I’ll send her a wire. You can say you’ve been detained in the shop; she won’t know any better. Oh, do come, for God’s sake. I haven’t seen you for so long, and I want to talk to you.’

She looked down at her clothes.

‘Never mind about that. We’ll go somewhere where it doesn’t matter how you’re dressed. And we’ll go to a music-hall afterwards. Please say yes. It would give me so much pleasure.’

She hesitated a moment; he looked at her with pitifully appealing eyes.

‘Well, I don’t mind if I do. I haven’t been out anywhere since I don’t know how long.’

It was with the greatest difficulty he could prevent himself from seizing her hand there and then to cover it with kisses.